


Armin Alone

by Tentaculiferous



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abortion, Angst, Blackmail, Coercion, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FTM Armin Arlert, Friendship, Gen, Kink Meme, Mpreg, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Panic Attacks, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Teacher-Student Relationship, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, academic dishonesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tentaculiferous/pseuds/Tentaculiferous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deciding to help Connie Springer may have been the worst decision of his life. </p><p>Armin is blackmailed into sleeping with his instructor, with disastrous consequences. </p><p>Note: this is labelled a Gen story for a reason. The focus is on the psychological problems and after-effects, not on any relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, Thalberg is this guy: http://tinypic.com/r/15oxulj/5  
> He turned up in a few of the training episodes, watching Shadis tear into the new recruits. Later he was shown in a classroom teaching factual information on Titans. If he has a canon name I'd love to know it, but I only ever saw him referred to as "Instructor" or "Commander" that I can remember.

The classroom was empty, all the students long gone for evening physical training, with the exception of Armin. Armin, who had been kept after by Instructor Thalberg. The curtains had been drawn across the one window, the door was shut and locked. Supposedly there was an extra lesson going on, private guided research. There was nothing going on in that classroom that was sanctioned or approved by the military guidelines, but it sure was educational. 

He could not tell Eren, or Mikasa. That was the first thought that ran through his head, as the man who had been his teacher for the last three years stripped him of all his clothing, with a relish that made his head hurt to think about. 

No, he thought as his teacher, formerly so respected and looked up to, eagerly groped at his breasts, small and unnoticeable though they were, he cannot tell them. There cannot be another brutal murder around them. Their background would make them too suspect. While the murder of slavers and traffickers might go unpunished, the murder of a ranking military instructor would, and no excuse about him harassing or sleeping with a student would excuse it. Armin had no doubt that within an hour of his two best friends being informed, his instructor would be meeting the end of his life. And no one would believe he had raped a scrawny, low-ranked, and plain teenager like Armina Arlert—Armin to his friends, and even to Instructor Shadis, but not to the classroom instructor or the rest of military, or the rest of the world. 

And he didn't fight back, didn't murmur a word of protest, just bit his lip in pain when Thalberg spread his slim legs and entered him, sending a knife-like pain through his abdomen and most sensitive parts. For him there was only pain, disgust, and loathing. Shocking, bitter disappointment that his teacher would do this to him. He had been what some would call a teacher's pet—only Eren, with his single-minded, all-consuming obsession with the Titans, rivaled him in knowing the answers and paying attention to the coursework. This is what ran through his head as sat on the desk, waiting for it to be over. Armin had always admired teachers and scholars, those who knew a great deal and respected knowledge. He had aimed to be like them. He certainly hadn't needed to cheat on the finals. 

No, that particular distinction went instead, to Connie. Connie, who did fine under Shadis's physical and military training, but who couldn't seem to pay attention to the academic lectures, to do the assigned reading, to think critically about the history and science of Titans and military tactics. Connie, who would wash out of the military entirely if he didn't make an A on their last final test of the quarter. Connie, who had about as much chance of making an A on the test as Armin had at beating Reiner in an arm-wrestling match. 

Armin did not hate Connie or blame him in any way for what was happening. It had been him, after all, who had decided to do something for Connie after seeing him struggle with the theories that seemed so basic and natural to him. After seeing him devote every hour of his free time for the past two weeks to studying for this final, and still not be able to ace any of the practice questions, not even the easiest ones. 

No, it had been Armin's idea, Armin who had talked to him that morning in the dormitory, making a plan. Connie had agreed—he had nothing to lose—he would be out of the military if he didn't successfully cheat, and out of the military if he was caught. His only salvation lay in successfully using Armin's “help” without getting caught.

As it was, they had been caught. The instructor must have noticed something. Armin didn't know where he'd slipped up, and the instructor hadn't bothered to tell him. As it was, he'd offered him a little deal (some deal, Armin had thought ruefully) where neither Connie nor Armin would be reported or given any punishment, if Armin agreed to do one little thing. 

That one little thing was seemingly over now, and Thalberg barely had a second glance to spare him after he'd used him. He'd simply gathered up his papers in his briefcase and left him, closing the door behind him. 

Outside, the sun was beginning to drift downwards. The sad, warm light trickled through the curtain and over him as he did the best he could to clean himself up and look unremarkable, as if nothing had changed, as if no great sin or undertaking had occurred in the little schoolroom.


	2. Chapter 2

After that, he stayed after for “individual research” once a week. It meant making up his missed evening training on his day off, but Thalberg had apparently told Shadis that Armin himself had asked for the opportunity. Armin could do nothing but nod and agree with that story when Shadis had asked him if that was what he wanted to do. 

This was not what concerned him. What concerned him was Connie. He could not stand the idea that someone else was being put through what he was going through; especially if that suffering was a result of a plan that had been his. 

However, when he talked to Connie about their cheating, he could discern no regret, no falsity in the joy he expressed at having gotten away with it. He gave Armin a high-five every time, throwing his arm around Armin's shoulders and saying “my savior”, or “my Wall Armin” for which Armin forced himself to weakly chuckle. He kept a close eye on him regardless, but never saw him stay after with Thalberg. 

It seemed that Armin alone was being blackmailed.

* * *

So it was with a special relief that Armin finished his training and entered the Scouting Legion. Three months of being subjected to Thalberg's attentions and Armin already felt like it would take a lifetime to get rid of the feelings of helplessness, self-loathing, and shame. 

Nonetheless, with his busy new schedule and a variety of awful things to worry about, he was able to keep what had happened out of his mind most of the time. As the days passed with the Scouting Legion, he thought about it less and less. It was simply a very bad, very unfortunate circumstance that had occurred and that was now completely over. Thalberg was completely powerless to blackmail him now that he had graduated; after all, if he reported them now, it would raise the question of why Thalberg had waited so long to bring it to official attention, and also risk incriminating himself simply for the fact that he had sat and allowed two cheaters to graduate, doing nothing. 

And so Armin lived without fear hanging over his head once again. He did not worry about encountering Thalberg when he was in the city, or at military functions. He simply lived his life, the life of a soldier in the Scouting Legion, which was dangerous and traumatic enough without reminiscing on past terrors. 

All was well until one ordinary fall day. One ordinary fall day, when Armin and Eren were, along with several other scouts, bringing back kindling to the Headquarters for the fireplaces. The days were warm and sunny but the fall nights were enough send Armin, shivering and shaking, into Eren's bed seeking warmth. (He was unsurprised to usually find Mikasa there as well, though she was probably there out of a desire to warm Eren, rather than selfishly seeking warmth for herself). That night, thank Maria, the fireplaces in the main halls would be lit. 

When they neared the castle, arms full of their burdens, they passed a knot of soldiers in 3D Maneuver Gear, who had apparently been doing some sort of training. Now, however, they were gathered around watching Petra mercilessly beating Auruo across the back with the flat of one of her swords. 

“Damn, what's got into her?” Eren asked, rather in awe of the fury at which she was punishing her teammate for the unknown offense.

Connie snorted. “Aww, that's nothing. You should have seen my mom go off on my dad every month when she got her period...” 

Armin didn't hear the rest. That one word, _period_ , hit him like a ton of bricks. He immediately stopped walking, trembling. His shaking arms could barely hold onto the armful of wood he carried, and several sticks tumbled away. 

_How long? How long had it been?_ Armin couldn't remember. He desperately dredged through his memories of the last few months, but the last one he could recall was in the deep heat of summer, remembering how deeply loathsome the blood had been on the hot days. Surely there had been one since? How could months have passed without one without him noticing? 

His struggle for proof against his darkest suspicion was broken by Eren shaking him, green eyes big and worried with concern for him. 

“Armin? Armin!?”

“I-I'm fine.” he managed to say.

“What the hell was that?” Eren demanded 

The other soldiers were looking as well; some had even turned their attention away from the Auruo-beatdown. 

“I just got lost in thought.” he said. “About Titans.” he continued, when he saw the skeptical look on the others faces. 

Eren seemed to accept that, knowing that Titans were a far more fearsome subject in Armin's mind than they were in his own, but he still looked wary. 

He scooped half of Armin's kindling out of his arms and into his own bundle, and they continued on.

Armin was careful to keep his expression carefully deadpan, other than shooting Eren a small smile when he glanced (frequently) his way. Inside however, he was a torn-up mess, thoughts flying wildly in an unorderly fashion that he usually would not tolerate. 

He couldn't wait to get to the privacy of his own room, where he could sort it out. (One unintended benefit of the huge castle the Scouting Legion had been granted was that there was more than enough room for even the most junior member to have his or her own space.) 

He fled there, telling the others he wanted to take a nap. Eren let him go, but Armin knew he was suspicious. His friend was perceptive, but trusted in Armin enough that he would let him work out his own demons, if that was what he wanted. Assuming he didn't keep acting like he was going off the rails.

Inside his room, Armin paced frantically, stopping only to bite his lip or pull furiously on the blonde locks of hair that rested above his shoulders.

His thoughts were divided between a futile attempt to find a more recent month he'd menstruated in, which he knew wouldn't happen but which he was helpless to stop searching for, a soothing train of thought that insisted he wasn't necessarily pregnant, young females missed their periods all the time, and finally, an agonizing but necessary theorizing of how he would deal with such an awful prospect. All of it was overlaid with an unhelpful portion of panic that went something like “What will I do? Oh goddammit, what will I do, what will I?” and a small amount of self-pity (“Really? Like I haven't been given enough to deal with in life?”) 

He was trapped in such a manner for the next two hours, before Jean came to collect him for kitchen duty. 

They peeled potatoes, diced carrots, and ground spices in silence, Armin rebuffing all attempts to draw him into conversation with dead, monosyllabic replies. 

At dinner he was only slightly more engaged, doing what he could to appear normal and undistracted. Conscious of Eren and Mikasa's suspicious eyes on him, and now Jean's as well, he forced himself to laugh at their jokes and speculate on the latest news from the capital along with the rest of his teammates. 

Finally, mercifully, he was able to depart to his room to lie sleepless in bed and agonize over his situation once more. 

He could not, could not have a child at this point in his life. It had to be a simple irregularity in his cycle. He was only 15 years old. He was committed to a military branch where people's lifespans, post-enlistment, were typically measured in months, if not days. There was not a chance in hell that Thalberg would lend any kind of support or admit to having fathered the child. He would be raising the child alone—except of course Eren and Mikasa would help him raise it, and that was unfair, because it had been his stupid decision, his burden to bear, not theirs. 

He would ruin all of their lives, not just his own. With that thought he began sobbing, quietly and miserably. Like Eren and Mikasa didn't have enough to worry about, without him adding to their problems. 

He touched one hand to his belly, but it gave away nothing. It felt totally normal, mostly flat with the slightest bit of pooch. He had no idea if it that was normal or abnormal for someone at his supposed stage; he knew women didn't noticeably gain weight for quite awhile, but when did it become noticeable to them? He had no symptoms; no nausea, no mood swings, no weird cravings. He had felt more tired and drained this fall, but he'd never had a great deal of stamina and it was hard to tell if it was simply a result of the increased activity of a regular soldier's life or a sign of something worse. 

Armin was praying that he wasn't pregnant; it would be the simplest, and most merciful possibility. However, he also recognized that he wasn't usually lucky, and that everyone in his position probably clung to such a false hope. 

He forced himself to breathe deeply, and finally was able to push his thoughts into a coherent, logical order. It was the thought of a third option, that went beyond the two simple branches of not-pregnant or pregnant-will-have-child. Sometimes women miscarried. Sometimes, there were even people, things, that could help them along. 

He didn't know much about the details. He had heard of only the most obvious and common methods; throwing oneself down stairs (not happening; he couldn't risk a disabling injury), being beat in the abdomen, standing in cold water for hours, wearing a tight corset... and none of those were foolproof. Desperate women who had tried all still often did not miscarry and were forced to give birth to another child. 

There were certain potions, herbal concoctions that women were most often given if they dared to seek out a doctor or apothecary for help; if they were given any help at all and not turned away in shame. Armin had heard of few women who survived the potions, but the ones that did, were usually successfully rid of the life developing inside them. That alone was enough to lead many women to drink what was essentially pure poison; toxic to human life that could ruin their health if not outright kill them. 

Armin was not that desperate. He was not going to throw his life away, and make his friends mourn him, because death was to some a better alternative to raising a baby alone. For him it wasn't. Nor was he willing to rely on beating and torturing himself physically in the off-chance that his body would give up its unwanted cargo. 

That did not mean there were no other options. There had to be other options; although many doctors were ignorant butchers, there were those who were clever and skilled, like Dr. Jaeger. There had to be a doctor out there who knew a way, to cut the growing infant out or force it to come to an early birth. 

And with that comforting resolution, he was finally able to drift away into sleep's welcoming oblivion.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks later and he was on his way to Hermina with the logistics team who were making one of the regular supply runs. Armin had confided his situation and resolution to his superior officer, and rather than the dressing down and possible discharge he had expected, it had sparked very little interest. He was sent to Hanji for a pregnancy test, and after it was confirmed that yes, he really was pregnant, medical leave was granted and arrangements were made. 

It made Armin realize that he'd never really given much thought to pregnant soldiers; and it had to be a fairly common issue given the amount of females in the military, and the general human distaste for celibacy. And yet very few female soldiers had dropped out early to start families. 

Apparently he would not need to resort to risky measures to rid himself of his pregnancy; the military had several doctors that could perform a surgery that would accomplish the same thing with far less risk to his health and that would allow him to return to duty soon. And rather than the moral scorn he expected, that society itself had always given to women attempting to “go against nature” as the priests said, he was instead encountered with the opposite attitude: it would be shameful and immoral to waste his training and all the military had contributed to his upbringing, if he insisted on bearing the child; making himself unfit for duty for almost a year, and longer if he could find no one to care for the child while he returned to duty, in which case he would face a dishonorable discharge. 

It made sense in a country that had far too many mouths to feed and a greater need for more trained soldiers. Armin could see the logic in it, even if it did seem a cold set of rules. The change in policy was a recent one; having gotten much stricter after the fall of Shiganshina. Before that Armin would have had to seek out a doctor and pay for any medical services to terminate his pregnancy. Now for soldiers they were covered along with any other needed health services. 

Outwardly, to the other soldiers in the wagon, Armin looked as calm and thoughtful as ever. Inside, however, he was still torn. What he wanted was to never have had to make the decision in the first place. It was the only option that really looked good to him, and it was no option at all, just regret and fantasy. 

Before long the wagon was at Hermina's gates; then through the city proper. Armin was let off near the military hospital, and given instructions for meeting back up with the supply team before they departed in the evening. 

It was a short walk, and then he was standing, facing the building where he would go in and all of his problems, or at least the most pressing one, would supposedly be solved. He went in.

* * *

The procedure itself was so uneventful and painless that Armin could barely believe it had been done at all. Having chosen to go under for it didn't help either. Everything had an increasingly unreal feel to it that he couldn't seem to shake off. It took him a few hours before he was recovered enough from the drugs to leave. 

The sun was beginning to set as Armin made his way to the plaza. Physically, he felt weak and tired. Mentally, there was nothing. He seemed drained of all emotion. He was numb as he climbed into the wagon and felt the jarring bumps as it left the city.

The numbness was good, and he was dimly grateful for it. He suspected it was like a wall, and should he leave its protective defenses, he would be exposed to the searing inquisition of numerous painful emotions. 

He stayed that way, struggling to stay behind the wall, for the rest of the trip back to headquarters and for the rest of the day. Anytime he felt the pain welling up, or a stabbing sorrow, he thought of his grandfather. He thought of Grisha and Carla Jaeger, and of all the children and parents that had died either in the Titan attack, or in the reclamation attempt later. He thought of what it had been like for him, Eren, Mikasa, and countless others to grow up orphaned, alone. 

This pushed away the gnawing doubt about whether he done the right thing, but served to push him out from the wall and into a total and miserable depression. The world as it was was too awful a place to want to bring a child into, but at the same time being reminded of just how much he and the others had been subjected to was almost overwhelming. 

He struggled against tears all through dinner, grateful for the dark room and the flickering firelight that concealed the misery on his face. Afterwards, he attempted the quick escape to his room that was becoming typical of him. 

Unfortunately for him, Eren and Mikasa were both more observant than he expected. With a quick glance of absolute understanding between them, they headed him off in the hallway outside his room. 

“Armin, you have to tell us what's wrong.” 

“You were crying at dinner.” Mikasa said, as seemingly detached as ever, though Armin knew her well enough to read the concern in her eyes. 

“I was _not_!” Armin said, though now he was. 

“Just leave me alone guys.” 

And with that, he proved that he wasn't so physically inept after all; he slipped by them in a lightning-fast maneuver and sped into his room, slamming the door and bolting it behind him.  
Outside, Eren and Mikasa stood, Eren looking slightly bewildered. 

He walked over and knocked on Armin's door steadily for several minutes. He received no answer, but was not discouraged. They would get to the bottom of this, and soon. They walked off to their own rooms, but Eren's face had taken on its usual scarily determined expression. 

Inside Armin's room, he was trying to sleep, but was instead being tormented by thoughts that were _incredibly pointless and a waste of time_ , but which he couldn't seem to break away from. He kept wondering if it would have had his blue eyes, his grandfather's kindness, his parents' bravery. He wondered if it would have been smart like him, weak like him, or it would have been something far different from him altogether, taking after its father. Would it have gotten the good from them without the bad? What would the baby have been like? What would his life been like with it? What path had he turned away from for good? 

His inability to destroy these trains of thought only made him angrier, which made it even more difficult to relax and fall asleep, and he spent most of the night suffering. 

As a result, he did not look well in the morning at all. The old mirror in his room showed purple-brown dark circles that lay under his eyes like bruises, and the bags under his eyes showed his lack of sleep. Sleep had done nothing to improve his mood or mindset, and he dreaded leaving the room and facing Eren and Mikasa, who knew something was up if not what. 

He did not want them to know what was up. Although they'd never be able to force Thalberg's name out of him, he didn't want them to know even the slightest bit of what had happened to him. And the fact that he had not told them about a relationship with anyone could indicate one of two things: either he didn't trust them enough to tell them he was seeing someone (which he didn't think they would believe) or that he'd been raped or ill-used by someone. Believing either of those things would hurt them. Eren didn't need another reason to feel angry, or to be concerned about him. Mikasa didn't need yet another reason to be distrustful of human beings. 

 

Both of them would likely blame themselves for not knowing, for not protecting him. He could not let that happen. 

Slightly energized by his determination to be strong for his friends, he brushed his hair out and put his uniform on, making sure it was neat and trim. Then he headed downstairs. 

At breakfast he smiled and chatted with the other morning people (he was normally unusually alert and content in the mornings, when half of the other soldiers usually looked like death warmed over). Eren was one of the latter, and looked as though he was still mostly asleep, slumped over a cup of coffee and a bowl of gruel. Mikasa, however, was another who was usually wide-eyed and alert in the morning. She stared relentlessly at Armin the whole time. 

He looked like his normal happy self. Inside he was dying. 

The day commenced normally though, and Eren and Mikasa seemed to buy his act, which did give him the slightest bit of a happiness. They talked about normal things throughout the day (it was yet another cleaning day, aimed at keeping the castle “presentable”, in Levi's words). Armin always wondered who it was meant to be “presentable” to. A king? Anyone else would have been more than pleased with the overly immaculate building. 

Floors were scrubbed, banisters were polished, rugs beat within an inch of their life. The three were alone in the pantry, straightening all the food containers and making sure each package was properly organized, and grousing about it, when they moved in on him. 

He was completely caught off guard, which was probably what they had planned. Act like they were letting it go, get his guard down, and then begin the offense. 

Where had he been yesterday?

Went into the city with the supply train.

Why?

Why not? 

What had happened in the city to make him come back crying?

Nothing, he hadn't been crying. (A hollow lie, and one which he felt cheap in saying—they had both seen him crying, and they knew he knew they'd seen him.) 

Why had he been in a daze for the last two weeks? Why, why? 

So many questions that he couldn't answer. And he was so tired. 

“Just stop bothering me guys, I have nothing to say.” Which was true in a way. 

“Fine.” Eren said. He turned back to the bin of oats he had been checking, seemingly willing to honor his words. 

Armin was surprised, and deeply relieved. They were going to give up so soon? He'd expected them to badger him longer. He was surprised to feel a small amount of disappointment. He supposed some selfish part of him craved the endless questions, wanted them to break down his barriers and relieve him of the burden he labored under, even though they didn't deserve to have to carry it. 

Luckily for that small part of him, Eren wasn't finished.

“If you really don't want to tell us, we can't make you. But you're making us helpless to help you, and we know something's wrong. Just think about how you would feel if it were me or Mikasa in your shoes, and all you could see is that we were hurting, and we didn't trust you enough to let you in.” 

Armin could imagine it, and it sent a shocking wave of guilt through him. Before he knew what was happening, his eyes had blurred with tears and his throat was choking on sobs, trying to hold them back. His hands shook, nerveless, and dropped the jar of pickled beets he'd been holding. 

Mikasa moved lightning-quick and caught it, putting her arm around his shoulder as he sank to the floor, sobbing. Eren turned away from his oat bin, looking slightly guilty for causing Armin to break into tears, and barred the pantry door before rushing over to Armin's other side. 

They waited silently, holding him, and let him cry it out. It was not a quick process; Armin had weeks of stress and grief bottled up inside him. At one point, as it began to taper down, it hit Armin that now he would have to tell them, there was no way out of it after this episode, and he began to hyperventilate. Eren gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and Armin fought to calm his breathing down, to just accept it, and won out. He was finally out of tears. His nose was clogged and he had a massive headache beginning, but he was ready to talk. 

And so he did, for the next half hour. He started at the beginning, with Connie, and then even with Thalberg (he made them swear on their lives that they wouldn't take revenge before he did so, threatening to never speak to them again if he found a certain instructor had been murdered or had mysteriously disappeared). 

They were interrupted by a pounding at the door at one point; Levi wanting to know if the slackers thought they could hide out forever. Mikasa simply opened the door an inch, gave him her scariest eyes, and told him “Go away”. Then she simply slammed the door in his face and barred it again. 

Then they resumed again, despite the muffled angered shouts from outside the thick wooden door. 

Armin told them about how alone he'd felt, especially when he went to Hermina. How even though he knew he'd made the right decision, he still couldn't help feeling sad, couldn't help doubting himself. 

After all that, he felt unbelievably relieved. He was exhausted, and his head was killing him, but his own emotions weren't trying to rip him apart anymore. He was still sad. Now though, he knew it would fade. 

As one, they stood up and unlocked the pantry door. No one was there; Levi had apparently given up. Wordlessly, they returned to their tasks. Eventually they began to talk of other things, of every day things, things that were once again a joy to talk about for Armin. This was punctuated by the occasional hug from Eren or Mikasa as they passed by him to shelve something or other. 

Armin was once again sure that there would be a day when they could go outside the walls safely. There would come a day when they would all have children, and they would never have to fear for their safety, or that those children could be orphaned at any second, left helpless to be preyed on. They would build that world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has read this story to its conclusion. Currently there are only two Attack on Titan stories on AO3, counting this one, that are tagged with 'abortion'. It's not a popular topic for obvious reasons; even to people who are pro-choice, abortion is a sad subject. it's often an uncomfortable and sensitive thing to talk or write about. Hopefully this story hasn't been the cause of any offense. Armin's negative reaction afterwards is not meant to imply abortions are bad or any other such message. It's simply that after an abortion many people experience grief; and when people are forced to carry that burden alone it's even harder to bear. 
> 
> Likewise, the ending isn't meant to imply that a good chat or cry will cure everything--Armin is by no means completely over his experiences, it's simply that's he's begun to get support which helps with healing. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, or had any thoughts on it or criticism, please leave a comment. All feedback is appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, any feedback, kind or cutting, is loved ♥


End file.
